Delta Quadrant Drabbles
by Janet Fraiser
Summary: A collection of drabbles starring our favorite captain and her intrepid crew.
1. Mourning Dew

**Disclaimer**: I own neither Star Trek: Voyager nor the characters used in my stories.

**Author's Note**: My muse picked up on my foul mood and decided to plop this in my mind. This is the first of many drabbles (this happens to be a triple drabble) which I'll post as my muse sees fit. Nova, this is your fault.

* * *

The morning dew slowly seeps into his pants but he doesn't notice. He's been here for an hour already, since just before dawn, and somewhere after the first ten minutes he lost awareness of the world around him. His eyes are on the stone before him but his thoughts are lost in the past, thousands of lightyears away. He hears the sound of laughter, the voice burned like warm whiskey on a cold night. He sees the crooked smile, the twinkle in the blue eyes that warned of a mischievous mood. He feels the touch of a hand, the palm on his chest that was a gesture only for him.

_Things aren't supposed to be like this_, he thinks. _We're home now and things aren't supposed to be like this._

All it took was for one slight miscalculation from the ensign piloting the shuttle and everything had gone wrong on the trip home from a diplomatic function off-planet. The two men who'd come to his house in the middle of the night and told him that she was gone had no answers for him yet, though they did tell him that the ensign had lived and that it was all a random accident. They told him that there was nothing that could have been done; it wasn't a comfort to him then and it's not a comfort now, a week later. He still can't believe it, won't accept it.

I never got the chance to tell her, he thinks, pain washing over him again as he touches the cold marble and wishes for the thousandth time that he had been there to continue the journey by her side. He's not sure what to do with himself now, without her here beside him to share a life with.

_I love you._


	2. Accusations

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Star Trek: Voyager or the characters used here. I only own the chocolate cake, which I'm using to reward the characters for playing nicely in this one.

**Author's Note**: 245 words make this between a double and a triple drabble, but oh well. This is for mylittleredgirl, as payment for the feels I inflicted.

* * *

"Uh, excuse you."

Her sharp reprimand brings his head up and it takes him a second to fully comprehend what's happening. She's standing in front of the sofa, her hands on her hips and a level ten glare in place. He stands slowly, his eyebrow raising as he matches her pose.

"Can I help you?"

She reaches out and prods his chest with one finger, her voice crisp and very matter-of-fact as she says, "I know it was you."

"What was me?" he asks, genuinely confused about what she's talking about.

"I know you stole my chocolate cake. It was in stasis this morning and now it's not, so you stole it," she accuses and he can't help his reaction; he laughs in her face. Tears are streaming down his cheeks by the time he's able to get himself under control.

"Really? Really?" he gasps, chuckling softly. "I didn't take your cake, Kathryn. You ate it at lunch, remember?"

She's silent for a moment, staring at him with narrowed eyes. After a long moment she relaxes, smiling even as a blush creeps up her neck.

"I'm sorry, my love. You know how I get when I'm hungry," she mumbles, settling herself on his lap. He wraps one arm around her as best he can and kisses her nose as his free hand slips down to touch her growing tummy.

"No apologies needed, beloved. I saved you my slice of chocolate cake, just in case."


	3. How To Defeat the Borg

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Star Trek: Voyager or any characters used here.

**Author's Note**: My muse is diabolical and this is the result. It's a triple drabble and is absolute nonsense.

* * *

It's a very well-kept secret that the Borg Queen is allergic to tuna. I had absolutely no idea that the Borg Queen had a food allergy, since the Borg don't eat; they get energy and any nourishment needed through their regeneration alcoves. But Seven of Nine, former Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One and current Astrometrics officer aboard the Federation Starship Voyager, is a lousy drunk and tends to spill secrets when she's had more than half a glass of wine. While that could be disastrous for Voyager should Seven ever drink around aliens, it proved fortuitous for us in the struggle against the Borg.

Seven proceeded to tell me what I'm going to tell you now, though it musn't go any further than us. If the Borg Queen finds out that I'm revealing this information, which she considers to be her biggest weakness, she'll be relentless in her pursuit of Voyager and I'm not keen on the idea of having to face the mottle-headed bimbo again.

The Queen, though allergic to tuna, can't resist the thought of a good ol' tuna sandwich. Seven isn't entirely sure why the matriarch of the mechanical demons has no self-control where tuna sandwiches are concerned (she thinks it's a flaw in the computer that makes every Queen susceptible to the craving), but the Queen can't say no. Unfortunately for her, she has a violently immediate anaphylactic reaction; her throat closes up, her blood pressure plummets, and not even Borg perfection can compensate for the total disintegration of her physical body. The resulting shock to the Hive mind is enough to take out the Collective, one drone at a Borg had three close calls with this problem before they realized that tuna needed to be a banned substance in the Queen's presence.


	4. Not the Captain

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing recognizable. Star Trek: Voyager and its characters are not mine; I just take them out to play with the promise to return them happy and intact.

**Author's Note:** This is dedicated to Nova, who went and studied like a good student. My muse seems to be on a naughty kick lately and I let her out to play, so be warned that this drabble/ficlet is rated M.

* * *

It's been a long seven years.

It's lonely at the top, something she's been aware of since the first few days in the Delta Quadrant. There hasn't been anyone in all that time: not Jaffen, not Kashyk, not even the holographic Michael. She's been isolated, celibate, and desperately lonely, and nothing's helped ease the ache of being deprived of something as simple as another person's touch.

She knew he loved her before New Earth, knew that his ancient legend was a veiled way of telling her that, but she kept her own emotions and feelings tightly reined in. As captain, she couldn't be seen as anything less than infallible and essentially omnipotent; it was a heavy burden and shoulder for seven years, and there were times she thought it terribly unfair, but she'd been the one to strand them in the Delta Quadrant and she was the one who had to get them home.

But she's not the captain now, hasn't been for almost an hour. She's just Kathryn, her commission resigned in a flurry of chaos; Admiral Hayes begged her to stay, Admiral Nechayev threatened her with publicity if she went through with her resignation, and Own Paris had the nerve to tell her he was disappointed in her, as if a solid seven years of unrelenting pressure was normal and expected.

She almost lost him, a fact that still makes her tremble. The Admiral's journey back in time saved her crew from another sixteen years of struggling through the Delta Quadrant, Tuvok from a horrible mental degradation, and Seven from a tragically preventable death. But the admiral, in all of her horridly cold wisdom, decided Kathryn needed to know exactly what she'd missed out on by playing the distanced and aloof captain; Admiral Janeway didn't mince words and Kathryn realized that the man she loved was moving on.

Unacceptable.

She promised the Admiral she'd talk to him, that she'd tell him exactly how she felt about him, but things had happened quickly with the Admiral's plan and before Kathryn really even had time to stop and breathe, Voyager was home. She didn't have time to talk to him before she was fighting for her crew, throwing everything she had into making sure every single person was taken care of. Twenty-four hours later the former Maquis, Tom Paris, and the Equinox Five are pardoned with commissions upheld, Seven and the Doctor are safe, and Kathryn finally beamed back to her Ready Room from Headquarters. She'd been planning on packing and going to Indiana but he'd come to her to apologize for the Seven fiasco and, as always, things went much differently than expected.

Her attention is brought back to the present as the first tingles of orgasm blossom through her body. She's holding on to the edge of the desk as tightly as she can, her body bending and arching in bliss. It's been so long since she's done this that the feeling of release is unfamiliar, but it's certainly not unwelcome. The sound of her breathing echoes through the room, along with the masculine grunts of her companion. He's focused on her, his dark gaze burning through to her very soul and she loses the rhythm they've set as the pleasure crests and washes through her trembling limbs.

Chakotay grunts as her body clenches around him, pulling him with her into that place of perfection and bliss. As their bodies relax and he falls forward into her, she wraps her arms around his neck and holds him close. Whispered words of love and adoration float between them, apologies and regrets drifting into the background as they finally acknowledge what they mean to each other. He promises that he's hers, that she's his, and that they'll never be apart again. And for the first time in seven years, the loneliness of command is the furthest thing from her mind.


	5. Restless Sleep

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek and its characters don't belong to me. I just take them out to play and promise to have them home at a reasonable time.

**Author's Note: **My muse's been on my case lately and this is the result. It's inspired by the prompt given.

**"I take it all back! Don't take him, just, not him. Anyone but him." **\- Jack Harkness, _Torchwood_

* * *

Kathryn is a restless sleeper, a fact that amuses him; she's in control of circumstances when she's awake but nighttime is different. She tosses and turns, and as long as it's restless sleep he knows she's okay. It's when the nightmares come that Chakotay worries.

"No! Oh god, no!"

Her voice startles him out his sleep and into consciousness, her thrashing increasing as she fights with the nightmare that has her in its grasp.

"Please no, not Daddy," she whimpers and his heart breaks. He's familiar with this nightmare and it's always the worst, taking the longest to pull her out of; she told him the story of her father and first fiance's death once and she had nightmares for several days after. Leaning down, he speaks softly and runs his fingers through her hair as he tries to help her back to awareness.

"Wake up, sweetheart. It's just a dream."

"No! Don't take him, please!"

She's bordering on hysteria and he knows he needs to stop it before she wakes up to a panic attack; it wouldn't be the first time and it's harder to calm her at that point. Grimacing as he slides his hands to her shoulders he gives her a solid shake, command infusing his voice as he barks at her.

"Kathryn, wake up!"

Her eyes fly open and she comes awake with a gasp. She bolts upright, her chest heaving as she trembles. He's right there with her, his arms wrapping around her tight.

"It's okay, beloved."

"I couldn't … He was there and I tried to save him but I …" she whispers, her voice rough. He smooths her hair back from her face and touches her cheek.

"It was a nightmare, Kathryn, nothing more," he says, stroking her cheek as he watches her eyes lose the haze of the nightmare. She chews on her lip for a moment before she loses the tension in her shoulders and the tears come.

"I couldn't save them. They were there, in the shuttle that was sinking in the icy water, and I could have saved him but . . . I couldn't save my father and let Justin die. Daddy would've told me to save Justin, Justin would've told me to save my father, and I couldn't decide so I lost them both," she says brokenly and he feels his heart ache for the pain in her voice.

"I'm sorry," he replies softly, kissing her forehead as she leans into his embrace. After holding him for a moment longer, she pulls away and kisses him lightly.

"Sorry I woke you," she says but he waves her off as they lie back down. She snuggles into his side and it only takes her a few minutes of silence for his breathing to even out. She kisses his chest and closes her eyes, grateful for the solid presence and love he provides, even when she wakes him with her nightmares.


	6. Mischief Afoot

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Star Trek nor its characters; I just take them out to play with a promise to have them home at a reasonable time.

**Author's Note: **This drabble was fun to write! My muse was supremely satisfied with Kathryn's humiliation . . . Apparently my muse is unreasonable and cruel.

****"Well, you know, now that you mention it... I've been having this recurring dream about killing you. What do you think that means?" **\- **Hoynes, _The West Wing_

* * *

=/\=

"If that's all for the briefing then you're dismi-"

"Actually, I have one more item of business that needs to be addressed."

Kathryn looks up sharply, her eyes narrowing in warning as Chakotay stands. He's ignoring her, a grin tugging at his lips, and she just _knows_ she's not going to like what she thinks he's about to say. She opens her mouth to warn him off but he speaks before she has the chance.

"I happen to know that today's a certain captain's birthday," he says and her heart drops to her stomach as the surprised faces of her senior staff, save Tuvok, turn to look at her. Tuvok's stoic as always, though Kathryn's fairly certain she sees amusement in his dark gaze. Chakotay continues and Kathryn notices that he won't look at her. "I took the liberty of arranging a small party and-"

"You did _what_?" she snaps suddenly, unable to control her temper any longer. This is a horrible, terrible thing to do and Kathryn's fairly sure her face is bright red. "What would possess you to do something as insane as that?"

Chakotay finally looks over at her and grins, shrugging slightly. She's so caught up in the mischief in his expression that she doesn't see the rest of the senior staff slip out of the briefing room, though the sound of the door sliding shut behind Tuvok makes her angry; even the Vulcan seems to have abandoned her with her traitorous First Officer.

"And to think I trusted you," she grates out, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at him.

"You didn't really think I'd let another year go by with me keeping my mouth shut, did you?" he retorts, mimicking her posture. She's still angry that he ratted her out to the crew - she's made it seven years, after all - but she can't stay mad at him long. Lifting and dropping a shoulder carelessly, she smiles slyly at him.

"You do realize that you're in the doghouse, right?"

"It's worth it," he replies as he loosens his stance and reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been planning this for a long time, Kathryn. The least you could do is show up and let your crew show their undying appreciation. That's every captain's dream, right?"

"You know, I _have_ been having a recurring dream that I kill you slowly with a party streamer and a slice of birthday cake. What could it mean?" she asks, slowly relaxing at the mock horror that crosses his face.

"I think it means I should sleep on the couch for a while," he says, moving his hand down to hers so he can tug her closer. He presses a soft kiss to her temple and smiles. "It also means that I should tell Neelix to forgo the streamers in the mess hall."

Her groan and his laughter precede them onto the bridge as the door slides open.


	7. Brig Time

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Star Trek nor its characters; I just take them out to play with a promise to have them home at a reasonable time.

**Author's Note: **This drabble is extremely vague and while I wrote it with my favorite Doinks in Space in mind, it really is applicable to any pairing.

**"If it weren't for prison I'd kill you!" - **Fiona's boss, _About A Boy_

* * *

=/\=

Her scream echoes through the room and he winces, gritting his teeth against the pain in his hand. She's been at this for hours, each wave of pain steadily worse than the last, and he's not sure how much longer she can handle the agony. She's got a fierce grip and the Doctor's had to give him a hypospray twice already to combat the pain of his broken fingers.

"You're doing so well," he murmurs, reaching over with his free hand to brush the damp tendrils of hair from her face. She groans as the pain peaks again, her eyes sliding out of focus as she retreats into her mind again. The buzzing of a tricorder sounds and he looks up, watching the Doctor smile as he nods.

"She can push when she's ready," the Doctor says. "It should be soon, within the next contraction or two."

She pushes with the next contraction and he's amazed to see her eyes clear as she clears transition. With the first round of pushing, however, he wishes she was back at the point where she wasn't so angry.

"This is your fault and I wish I'd never married you!" she yells, huffing and panting through a break in the contractions. "If it wouldn't get me thrown in the brig I'd murder you for doing this to me!"

The arrival of their child, a somber little girl who stares up at them with serious eyes, brings an end to the anger. They both stare at their daughter, lost in the perfection of the tiny child.


	8. Behavior Unbecoming

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Star Trek nor its characters; I just take them out to play and bring them back far happier than they were when they left.

**Author's Note: **This drabble/one-shot came from a delightful prompt in a fanfiction prompt group I belong to and I left the characters vague because of the different pairings it could be. I wrote it with a certain redhead in mind but it could be one of several pairings . . .

**"This one was one of your crew?"** \- Arkady, _T__he Deep_

* * *

"Captain."

She winces and shakes her head as she hears him approaching. She's been sitting in the dark cell for over three hours and would gladly stay another three hours if it meant she could avoid the conversation that she knows is coming. The cell door opens and she sees him step into the doorway, the back-lighting from the hallway doing nothing to ease the ominous dread forming in her stomach. She really,_really_ doesn't want to have to face him after this.

"This one belongs to you?" the jailer asks and she sighs as she hears her officer bargaining for his captain's release. When her freedom is settled, at no small cost, the jailer steps into the cell and unlocks the too-tight cuffs around her wrists. She stands slowly, rubbing at her irritated skin as she avoids looking directly at her officer. She lifts her chin defiantly and waits in silence for her release to be finalized. She's grateful for the transporter chief's discretion when they beam back to the ship and her filthy appearance is revealed; her uniform is the same one she was wearing when she got into the bar fight and that was twenty-four hours ago.

"Thank you for rescuing me," she says to her officer, still avoiding eye contact. She heads for the door and is startled when she hears him following her. Stopping right outside the door to the transporter room, she turns and plants her hands on her hips as she glares at him. "What?"

"It is my duty to remind you, Captain, that this is the fourth time in as many months that you have been detained by alien authorities after starting an altercation. This behavior is highly unbecoming of a Starfleet captain."

She stares up at him for a long moment, her jaw working as she grits her teeth. It takes her a moment to find her voice again but she manages to say, "So noted. When you get back to your quarters, I'd like you to think about how many times your captain has had to rearrange away teams because of your inability to tolerate our morale officer. And then remember that favor when your captain suddenly forgets your preference of away teams, would you?"

She walks away with her head held high; the memory of his horrified silence is going to stay in her mind for a _long_ time.


	9. Gloves

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Star Trek nor its characters; I just take them out to play and bring them back far happier than they were when they left.

**Author's Note: **Based off a bonus prompt in my fanfiction drabble group, this little gem was begging to be written and I couldn't deny it. I wrote it with certain characters in mind but it really can be read as anyone. It's unbeta'd so all mistakes are, as always, mine.

"**What did I say about speaking to me without addressing me as 'Wild Thing'?**" - Josh, _The West Wing_

* * *

Her black-gloved hands are planted firmly on her hips and her eyebrow is raised as she stares at him. She's in a no-nonsense mood and he regrets drawing her attention; her violent disciplinary procedures are well known throughout the ship. She's still staring at him and he feels a bead of sweat roll down his back at the dark expression she's gracing him with.

"What did you call me?" she says softly, her voice silky smooth and frighteningly even. He shakes his head, swallowing hard as he tries to find a way out of the mess he's in.

"Uh, erm . . . " he stutters and she tilts her head, making his anxiety jump. She clenches her hands on her hips and he shudders at the leather's creak. "I didn't mean to call you ma'am, I meant to call you Captain."

"But that's not what you said, is it?"

"N-No, Captain."

"No, it's not. And here I was thinking you were a smart officer," she purrs. He finds himself trembling as she leans toward him and runs a gloved finger down his cheek. "Next time, Ensign, be sure you think before you speak. I can't say I'll be quite so accommodating."

She grins right before she backhands him. He mumbles a thanks and leaves her Ready Room quickly, holding a hand over his split lip and thanking his lucky stars that he got off so easily.


	10. Sacrifice

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Star Trek nor its characters; I just take them out to play and bring them back far happier than they were when they left.

**Author's Note: **This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are, as always, mine.

"**Take me. Leave her and take me. I'm stronger than she is, I'll last longer.**" - Gwen Cooper, _Torchwood_

* * *

The sound of the cell door opening brings her to her feet. She's exhausted, worn down by the continuous interrogations, but she can't - and won't - tell them what they want to know. Her years in Starfleet have trained her to resist the aliens' various techniques but she's getting tired. She can't back down, though; the officer with her is depending on her to get him back to the ship so the Doctor can heal his internal injuries.

"Bring him."

The guard's command is met with her glare and a brisk shake of her head.

"He's injured. He'll be of no use to you," she says, lifting her chin. "I'm the senior officer, I'm far more useful."

"The General doesn't want you, puny female. He's not impressed with your lack of respect for his position and your unwilingness to talk," the guard answers snidely. "Bring him."

"No. Leave him and I'll talk to the General," she says, standing with her hands on her hips as she faces down the alien. She won't back down and the alien seems to recognize that.

"Very well. Talk and he lives."

She glances back at her officer's prone form as she's escorted from the dark cell and silently vows to hold out until their ship can find them.

'I'll get you home,' she promises silently and then goes to face the interrogator once more.


	11. Attentive Learner

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Star Trek nor its characters; I just take them out to play and bring them back far happier than they were when they left.

**Author's Note: **This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are, as always, mine.

"**I don't know when they taught you that, but I'm glad you didn't cut class that day**." - Sally Arthur, _Earth Star Voyager_

* * *

They collapse against each other, gasping as they work to catch their breath. His satisfied grin is bordering on smug but she can't find the energy to do anything more than swat weakly at his arm. He pulls her close, reaching down to bring the blanket up over their shoulders, and he smiles as she snuggles closer. His arms tighten protectively as she rests her head on his chest and it's a moment before she speaks.

"I don't know who taught you that or when but I'm sure as hell glad you didn't cut class that day."

"I learned that from past experience," he says smugly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You're lucky I'm an attentive learner."

"I'm lucky you love me enough to show me your many talents," she says, earning a chuckle and a squeeze. Settling into his side as she drifts off to sleep, she smiles faintly agaisnt his chest. "I'll have to show you everything I know tomorrow."


	12. A Moth To A Flame

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek and its characters don't belong to me. I just take them out to play and promise to have them home at a reasonable time.

**Author's Note: **I have absolutely no idea why my muse thought this needed to be a thing but I can't complain. It's been a while since I've written fluff (my muse is going through an awfully angsty time right now) so this was fun to explore. This is unbeta'd so, as always, all mistakes are mine.

* * *

He can't keep his eyes off her, not that he'd want to. She's beautiful - radiant, even - and she draws his attention like a moth to a flame. He knows he should be listening to the speech being given by Admiral Hayes but he can't look away from Kathryn. She's standing on the other side of Hayes, facing out toward the large group of reporters; for one brief moment, he considers trying to catch her attention but he knows that'd be a bad move in front of the holocameras in the crowd.

He manages to focus on the tail end of Admiral Hayes's speech and when the stuffy old windbag - Kathryn's words, not his - stops talking, there's applause and the flash of imaging bulbs. Hayes stays between Kathryn and Chakotay as they pose for the publicity shots and by the time the Admiral is done parading Voyager's command team in front of the press, Chakotay's got spots twinkling before his eyes.

The walk back to the officer's quarters is short and he's grateful, since Voyager's homecoming managed to coincide with the first snowfall of the winter. After seven years of living on a climate-controlled starship, the freezing temperature is startling and Chakotay is glad the officer's quarters are close. Kathryn's quiet, which isn't terribly surprising; debriefings ended yesterday and, as captain, hers lasted almost four months and Chakotay's sure her voice is ready for a break.

When they reach Kathryn's quarters, they stop right outside the door. She looks up at him, her hand resting on his chest over his heart and Chakotay feels the jolt of sensation right down to his toes. He reaches up and covers her hand with his, his eyes searching hers. She smiles, her eyes crinkling around the corners, and Chakotay realizes that he can see every emotion imaginable in the blue depths. Lifting an eyebrow, he huffs a laugh.

"Really?"

She nods, her smile growing. She stretches up on her toes and kisses him, her free arm winding around his neck. His arm goes around her waist and pulls her close, savoring the first taste of her. He deepens the kiss, tracing the bow of her upper lip before slipping his tongue into her mouth. Hers meets his and her fingers tangle in his hair.

"Get a room, you two."

Kathryn and Chakotay jump apart as though scalded, their eyes wide as they glance around. Tom and B'Elanna are standing at the end of the hall; Tom's grinning smugly and B'Elanna has her hand over Miral's eyes as if to protect her from the sight. Kathryn laughs as Chakotay blushes and Chakotay rolls his eyes. He smiles down at Kathryn and wraps his arm around her shoulder as she wraps her arm around his waist and, finally able to be together in every aspect of life, they make their way down the hall to join their family.


	13. Blanket Hog

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek and its characters don't belong to me. I just take them out to play and promise to have them home at a reasonable time.

**Author's Note: **delete-the-wife asked for this over on tumblr and my muse decided the prompt was fun enough to make into a drabble. This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are, as always, my own.

* * *

She's not sure what wakes her. The lights are low, indicating a night cycle, and an inquiry to the computer tells her that there's still three hours before the alarm sounds. The soft breathing next to her draws her attention and she rolls over to smile at the man sleeping heavily beside her. He looks years younger, the stress lines in his face melting away under the blanket of sleep. Reaching a hand up, she traces his prominent cheekbone and then leans in closer to press a soft kiss to his shoulder before dropping her head to his shoulder to try to sleep again. Just as her eyes close, though, she realizes what woke her up; he's stolen the blanket again.

Lifting her head, she groans as she sees that he's got the blanket wrapped around him completely. He's too heavy to move but she's cold and wants to spend the last few hours before the alarm sleeping. Sighing softly, she tries to figure out how to get the blanket from him.

"Chakotay," she whispers, nudging him gently in the side. He shifts a little but doesn't wake and she can't get the blanket from him before he settles back onto the bed. She nudges him again but gets the same results and this time her sigh is a little louder.

"I'm sorry for this," she whispers and then clears her throat to infuse her voice with as much of her command tone as she can. "Commander!"

It's a dirty trick but it works; he sits up, blinking drowsily as he throws the blanket to the side and looks around. She moves quickly, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up with a satisfied grin while watching him try to understand what's happening. Snaking a hand out of her newly acquired warmth, she pats his arm.

"You were hogging the blanket again and wouldn't wake up," she explains and the disgruntled look he gives her makes her laugh. He lies back down and tugs on the edge of the blanket, though she doesn't relinquish much. Giving up, he rolls her to the side and presses himself up behind her, holding her close. Hunkering down and pressing a kiss to the hand resting over her heart, she smiles at his sleepy, "Goodnight, Kathryn."


	14. A Letter Home

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek and its characters don't belong to me. I just take them out to play and promise to have them home at a reasonable time.

**Author's Note: **This particular drabble's been sitting on my Google Drive for a long while and I finally decided to throw it up here for your enjoyment. This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are, as always, my own.

**"It's a last letter home, just in case."** \- Raymond, _The Deep_

* * *

Her side of the bed is cold when he wakes up. Frowning as he climbs out of bed, he pulls on his robe and makes his way out to the living area and comes across a familiar scene; she's sitting at her desk with her computer console open, her voice a low murmur as she looks at the screen and speaks. He stops in the doorway and watches her, cataloguing her expressions as she speaks and the way her posture changes slightly with each passing moment. It takes her almost a minute to realize that she's not alone and she smiles up at him when she spots him.

"Computer pause log," she says, then holds her hand out to him. "I'm sorry I woke you."

He crosses over and takes her hand, leaning down to kiss her before he shakes his head and says, "I got cold and woke up when I realized you weren't in bed."

She smiles and taps a few buttons on the computer console. Standing, she wraps her arms around his waist and leans into him. He waits for a few seconds to see if she'll talk on her own but she doesn't so he finally lets his curiosity get the best of him.

"That seemed like a very serious conversation you were having," he says and she laughs quietly.

"A letter home to my mother," she replies. "Just in case."

"Just in case?" he asks and his confusing is evident in his voice.

"Just in case I don't make it home," she says, looking down to avoid his gaze. He frowns, shaking his head slightly but before he can speak, she looks back up. "I don't plan on dying out here, not when I have so much to live for. But I have to be realistic, Chakotay. Being captain reduces my chances of making it home drastically and there's so much I have to make sure my mom knows, just in case."

He wraps his arms around her and holds her close; she's right, as much as he wishes she isn't. It doesn't mean he has to like it, though.


	15. Accidental Transmission

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in the Trek universe, though I wish I did. It's a travesty, I know.

**Author's Note: **This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are, as always, my own.

* * *

With her hands planted firmly on her hips and a level ten glare in place, Kathryn Janeway is a formidable sight. She's staring down an uncharacteristically timid Tom Paris and - not for the first time - Chakotay thanks the Spirits that he's not the focus of her wrath; she's truly terrifying when she's angry.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" she snaps and Paris twitches.

"It was an accident, Captain."

"I hope you have a good old-fashioned toothbrush, Mister Paris, because you'll spend the next two months scrubbing the plasma manifolds with it. Now get out of my sight."

Chakotay manages to avoid laughing as Tom flees the Ready Room but the first officer isn't fast enough to hide his grin from his captain and he suddenly finds himself pinned by her livid gaze.

"Oh this is funny, is it? You wouldn't be laughing if he'd 'accidentally' transmitted the visual log of you in Arachnia's dress to Starfleet," she barks and then stops, her eye twitching.

The bridge crew looks at each other as the sound of the Captain's hysterical laughter filters through the bulkheads.


	16. Hot Chocolate

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek and its characters don't belong to me. I just take them out to play and promise to have them home at a reasonable time.

**Author's Note: **I was prompted to use chocolate in a story and this is what my muse gave me. I apologize in advance. This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are, as always, my own.

* * *

He leaves the bridge with Tuvok and heads straight to her quarters, blindly ignoring the compassionate looks he gets from passing crew members. The Doctor's solemn voice plays through his mind again, telling him about the brain damage and persistent vegetative state that can't be treated. The hologram actually sounded distraught as he told Chakotay that statis was the only option; if he'd been thinking clearly, the first officer would've have some shred of sympathy for the guilt the Doctor no doubt felt.

The doors to her quarters slide open at his approach and he slips in to find exactly what he expected to find; the lights are off and it's quieter than he's ever heard it. Moving to the doorway of her bedroom, he has to swallow his emotion in order to be strong enough to make it through this.

"Kathryn?"

She looks up at him from the bed, tears falling unheeded down her cheeks. He sits next to her and holds his arms out, catching her as she falls into his embrace. Mindful of her ribs - broken ribs are sore for a few hours after they're healed - and careful not to jostle her for fear of exacerbating the headache he's certain she has, Chakotay holds her close and presses a kiss to her hair.

"I tried," she says through her tears. "I tried to change the trajectory of the shuttle but I couldn't I knew we were going to hit too hard but I couldn't-."

"You did the very best you could, Kathryn. You were hit by enemy fire and still managed to bring the shuttle down with as few casualties as possible."

"I should've tried harder," she says. She shakes her head before looking up at him and the deep sadness on her face makes his heart ache. Touching her cheek, he pulls away and climbs off the bed.

"I'll be right back, Beloved," he promises and then heads to the replicator. When he returns, he's carrying two steaming mugs and a plate. Holding them so she can see, he smiles faintly. "My mother always swore by hot chocolate and marshmallows when I was a child. She said they had a healing property that could never be fully explained."

They sit on her bed, sip the hot chocolate with marshmallows, and talk. When she finally falls asleep, he's grateful to see that the lines around her eyes have eased. Sending a silent prayer of thanks to his mother, he wraps himself around Kathryn and sleeps too.


End file.
